


The Confrontation

by FacadeSmiles



Series: Creative Writing Prompts [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Detective, Gen, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 09:11:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FacadeSmiles/pseuds/FacadeSmiles
Summary: Prompt: Write the opening of a story titled 'The Confrontation' where a character's beliefs are challenged. Create a sense character and motivation.First Part





	

The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago; however, this dared not deter one slumped figure. Said figure hunched closer to the wall, frantically roaming her crusted eyes along a rotting poster board, searching desperately for something, anything to connect the jumbled mess of strings, writings, and photographs together. The individual looked unkempt and crazed, red wires of hair sprung from their constrainment, while dark rings adorned the eyes. It was as if the person had not seen their reflection in weeks. A noticeable smell had started to cling to the apartment. The stench particularly evident near the closet, where piles of takeout boxes and clothes littered the floor, just about concealing the darkened stains stretching out from beneath the door. 

Head swerving to follow her gaze, the woman's eyes roamed the gathered information. Finding nothing but more unanswered questions, the Private Eye gave an animalistic snarl and swiped at the board. A shower of thumbtacks and papers scattered, creating a sea of mixed evidence. Choked sobs soon escaped the pursed lips of the red head and drifted through the small cracked window, losing themselves within the night’s grasp.

Hanging by just a tear, as if to taunt her, one picture stood out clearly. A crooked man with a crooked smile glared up at her from its precarious position, before losing itself in the sea with its brothers.

The days after seemed to blend and bleed together, as if it was just one big nightmare of repeated occurrences. It must have been a week before Maxine’s presence was requested by her case’s supervisor, Harold McConnell. His peppered stash and aged hair gave him a look of authority and superiority; however, his reprehension on her earlier outburst directed at the prime suspect went unheeded. Instead she focused solely on the look of hatred the man had exhibited throughout the interrogation, which now lay cemented within her mind’s eye. She traced the crescent markings lining her palm and frowned, it had taken every ounce of self restraint she maintained to keep from obtaining another lawsuit. 

When it seemed she was being dismissed, she nodded and exited the room, refusing to look at the pity-filled eyes and the sad shaking of a head directed at her misfortune. Despite not being on the way out, Copperfield passed the one-way-window that showcased the interrogation room. The man inside looked nothing like his picture in which he stood tall and proud. Now he simply looked tired, worn and withered. Dower’s features make him look innocent enough, being young and rather handsome in spite of his bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing, but Maxine knew better. The taste of copper touched her lips and she knew it was time to go, to leave before she lost control again, but how could she when the source of all her grief sat but feet away? A sudden urge to confront the man took hold; however, she managed to refrain from barging into the room by sheer will power alone, the fact that the door was locked had nothing to do with it. Leaving in a hurry after her little scene with the door handle, Maxine quickly made her way home.

 

Safely inside her apartment, she finally let herself relax. Going through her routine of checking the locks and then gently caressing an upturned picture of a young woman. She sighed and slumped down into the ragged armchair, still handling the frame. She gazed sorrowfully at the brunette smiling up at her. So lost in her thoughts, she failed to realize there was a constant banging coming from her door. Startled and a bit dazed, she made her way carefully over. Was Dower released from custody? Had he followed her? A train wreck of similar thoughts clotted her mind. Her suspension didn’t allow her to carry a firearm so she shakily snatched a kitchen knife out of the sink and slunk up to the door. Hiding the knife she peeked through the eye hole, discovering it to only be her apartment manager. A grumpy looking man who refused to allow pets into his building, nor anything else that may bring joy to its occupants.

Relieved she unlocked the restraints to allow him to speak, only to regret it as soon as he started yelling about a smell complaint from the other inhabitants of the apartment. She pretended to be remorseful while trying to hide the inside of the room, but he just had to insist in checking out the source of the smell. Copperfield reluctantly allowed him access and stepped aside. His look of utter disgust wasn’t unwarranted.

She stalked him as he tiptoed past, her swiveling gaze catching a brief glance at a cracked mirror hanging on the opposite wall. She saw red and glanced down at the knife still hidden in her hand, then back at the manager. She thought back to her evidence board, and how not a single picture could place Elizabeth or Dower in the same location at any given time, nor how any evidence was ever gathered to actually prove her apparent kidnapping was a murder. Dower couldn’t have killed Elizabeth if she had never left the apartment to begin with, so how did he do it? The window was far too small to allow anything larger than a small cat through. While the locks lacked any sign of forced entry. Had she let him in? Surely not, she knew she wasn’t allowed near the front door and it’s three heavy bolts. Everything seemed to click just then and she felt herself go numb. The sound of the manager kicking aside the trash loitering in front of the closet gathered her attention. His removal revealed the darkened stains bleeding into the carpet and he scoffed in revolution before making a reach for the marked-up door.


End file.
